hired hand for farmer fowl, of Bohounovice
“I just want to earn my keep in peace. Keeping my head down so the bailiff and them folks with swords pass me by.”
Things William had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Every time I see Adam in the street, he looks the other way. My master is asking about them nails I told him I lent out. Sakra, I only gave them to help patch his roof, but a man's patience has limits. If the levy comes, I've got no coin left to buy a proper spear.
Nota scribaeHe was wringing his sleeves and pulling at threads the entire time he spoke.
the second Wednesday after Easter, at Sext
Word from the alehouse is Jarda the clerk is still in Kuttenberg looking at the mint records. Them folks say he's the one who writes the muster rolls, not the catchpole. Some men in this village take a bag of good iron from a lad and let him believe what he wants. Thieves, the lot of them.
Stop whining about your iron and mend the sheep pen. The beasts are wandering into the road.
Easter Sunday, at None
We had decent pottage today, but I couldn't stomach it. I heard the bailiff's men talking, and they say they need more lads for the Kuttenberg garrison to fight the Cumans. Sakra, I'm a yard hand, not a soldier. I don't want to die in the mud for the King's brother.
Nota scribaeThe lad looked pale as a shroud and asked me twice if his name was on any parchment I carried.
the day after St Matthias, at Prime
Yesterday I did a good deed. Adam the catchpole has a rotting roof that Jarda won't pay to fix, so I lent him a canvas bag of hand-forged nails. Cost me three days of mucking out yards. A man in his station remembers a favour from a hardworking lad, reckon.
Candlemas, at Terce
Frost is thick in the yard today. I hauled water till my hands cracked. But there's worse things than freezing. Them folks on the road say the Hungarians are requisitioning men. I need to find a way to make sure the bailiff forgets my name on the rolls.
Less chattering to the scribe, more hauling, William. The trough is empty.
Nota scribaeDictated beside the animal pens. Smelled strongly of swine.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Your master didn't ask for nothing, you pup. I used the iron on the roof, just like you said. You gave it.
I said lent, Adam. A decent Christian returns what he borrows before the feast.